


Toccatta, Fugue, and Fireworks in Disney Minor

by silveradept



Category: Fantasia (1940)
Genre: Brief Mention of Impending Death, Bringing The Source Material to Life, Gen, Implied/Referenced Body Horror, Toccatta and Fugue in D Minor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27567877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silveradept/pseuds/silveradept
Summary: The dedication night of the new theater should be no trouble, just the live orchestra playingFantasiaalong with the movie. When an unexpected performer shows up to join in, the music takes on entirely new dimensions.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 9
Collections: 2020 Disney Animated Movie Exchange (DAM Exchange)





	Toccatta, Fugue, and Fireworks in Disney Minor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [summoninglupine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/summoninglupine/gifts).



The first violin calls us to order, sort of. We've already tuned the instruments individually, to make sure they're on pitch, as much as they can be. The sounds that you hear on recordings, and in the movies, of the orchestra tuning up? For the most part, that's the to check and make sure all of is are in harmony with each other, rather than to get us to make major adjustments. And it's a lot easier to say "listen up, you lot, it's time to get started" with an A that rises above the murmur of the audience, the last-minute checks on difficult runs, and the quiet passing of information back and forth between the sections and their players.

It's a gala affair, this premiere. An entire week of "classic" movies, each with their own draw. There's a rumor that after the official program closes on Friday, those in the know will properly re-dedicate the theater with Rocky Horror, but nobody who is in the know will say for sure when the program will begin. I'm looking forward to seeing who's doing the stage show this time.

So we tune up, mostly for the audience's benefit. The acoustics are nice in here, even with a packed house. The emcee steps on the stage, to applause, and then spends, eh, five minutes solid thanking all the donors who made the performance tonight possible, before getting to the meat of why everybody is here.

We're doing _Fantasia_ live. The emcee has a short bit about how Fantasia pioneered a whole lot of techniques in stereo and surround sound that were pretty impressive for when it was on tour. I've heard him rehearse this all week, to get the timing to line up, so I'm not really paying attention until I hear something that's definitely not in the script.

"Joining us tonight for our premiere is a master illusionist, Mortimer Yensid, who will be creating many of the effects and abstract designs for our first piece live on the stage, synchronized to the orchestra and the screen."

Well, okay, that's a surprise. I look around to see if anyone else knows what's going on, but all I do is catch the eyes of a couple of my section mates who are doing the same thing. Usually, if you're going to have a guest performer, you want to do at least one or two runs of the thing, just to make sure everybody is on the same page about where things speed up and slow down. And, y'know, so the orchestra actually knows what's going to happen so we're not startled when the explosions start. But maybe John trusts that this guy can keep up with the click track or maybe they've been planning this all along and didn't think to tell us about it before now.

The audience applauds to welcome Mr. Yensid onto the stage, and I kind of wonder whether he was supposed to be later on in the program. He's the spitting image of the sorcerer from _The Sorcerer's Apprentice_ , right down to the pointy hat, although I was half-expecting his to have Mickey Mouse ears attached. He walks onto the stage as the curtains open up to reveal the screen behind us, without any hurry at all on either of them.

John turns to us, now that everything on stage is in position, and raises his hands to start. If I were doing some narration along with the music, about now is when I would talk about how faithfully adapting a work that was originally meant for one guy and his classical pipe organ is usually hell for the strings and woodwinds and occasionally pretty boring for any brass instrument that doesn't have valves. Slides don't translate well to speedy runs where each note is supposed to be articulated along the way.

I steal a glance up at the screen to see the movie running while I'm counting out a longer rest, but I don't see anything on the screen. It doesn't even look like the projector turned on to start with. That can't bode well for the new theater to have a major technology failure like this. John, of course, has no idea that there's an old man on stage behind him that's got no movie to keep the audience's eyes off him, and all he seems to be doing is waving his hands in time to the music. Although, these are the kind of people who would pay good money to spend four nights listening to a story about how a dwarf who's willing to sacrifice his shot at love causes the death of all the gods and heroes. In German. With or without the subtitles.

I can't pay too much attention to what's going on up above, though, because our entrance is coming up, and after that point, there really isn't a rest long enough to do much more than count it, because these composers love flourishes, and their arrangers love to spread them around just so nobody can fall asleep during the performance. The music sounds like we're on tonight, hitting the cues and entrances well.

And then the fireworks start. Not actual explosions, of course. This isn't the 1812 or anything. But suddenly, there's light dancing from Mr. Yensid's fingertips in rhythm, lines and waves and sparkles that follow the violin runs as they repeat themselves down the string section. Pretty good stuff for a man his age, and he's a lot nimbler than I would have expected, but I can't get distracted by the light show. 

I'm trying to concentrate on the music and listen for the cues that sprawl across my part, but they're starting to shift and change, to resemble the patterns that Mr. Yensid is drawing in the air for the audience. It's like I can read the music in the waves and the pictures that he's drawing, and even though I shouldn't be able to spot my cue in the rolling hills and waves that are rushing into my field of vision, there it is, plain as day, and I understand what I'm supposed to do without checking back with the music.

There's a fleeting thought, something about not being able to feel my hands and feet any more, but I don't pay any attention to it. It's hard enough keeping myself on task with the music without letting it run off trying to imagine what a "hand" or a "feet" is. I'll keep it in mind for later, though. It sounds like an intriguing concept for a story.

The music is dancing in front of me as I follow along in my part, sprinkling down like droplets, whirling, looping, leaving trails in the air that sometimes have accompanying sparkles or that float on upward towards the clouds. Rays of sunshine that warm the world, perfectly in time and on cue, a symphony of sight and sound as we build together toward the resolution. There's a little sadness at coming toward the end, of course, but it was glorious to have shone so brightly and contributed so well to the world as it, and we, hurtle on toward our fated end, keeping our tempo quick and our song lively, singing the fugue of twilight and the setting sun and the eventual time when everything must cease to exist, building up to the end.

Right as we hit the last note, I'm back in my seat, instrument in hand. The projector's running in time with the music and with Yensid, who is surrounded by the same red sunset glow that's on the screen. John cuts us off, and the entire theater goes dark.

For what seems like forever, nothing happens. I'm not ashamed to admit the first thought I had in the dark is that I was dead, the whole orchestra and the theater audience were dead, and maybe Yensid was, too, all of us sacrificed as payment for…whatever the fuck just happened. But then, kind of hesitantly, someone starts clapping, and then the rest of the audience joins in, and whomever the dingus is that thought pitch black was the perfect way to end this piece brings the stage lights up enough so that we can see each other in the pit and surreptitiously check to make sure we're alive and the people around us are alive, too.

Once we're satisfied we're not dead, we look back up at the stage, waiting for whatever technical difficulties the protection room is dealing with to get resolved, shuffling the paper as quietly as we can so as to get ready for the next piece. Finally, the projector comes back to life, and the sound system of the theater serenades us with the introduction to the next piece.

In the light of the projector, I can see that someone decided to decorate the stage with one of those Sorcerer's Apprentice hats. You know, the ones with the mouse ears you can get at Disney theme parks. Man, wouldn't it be nice if someone could do a live stage show with the effects like you would see on the screen, kind of like what's going to happen on Friday when one of the local groups is putting on Rocky Horror?

John discreetly taps his stand to get our attention, and we get ready to play the next piece. Tchaikovsky, at least, is writing for a full orchestra, rather than that "transcribe a pipe organ solo" stuff. John raises his hands, we raise our instruments, and then we're off into the next piece, just like we rehearsed it.

Maybe we can get John to wear the Mickey hat for Sorcerer's Apprentice.


End file.
